


MDMC - Criminal Minds Collection 1

by whiskeyandspite



Series: Music Drabble Meme Challenges [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fluff, M/M, drabble challenge, the sappiest sap ever coz i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got this from a wonderful writer, the amazing <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper">JustJasper</a>, and decided to try my hand at it. It was so much fun that I'll be sure to do more of these again, my muse has kickstarted! And most likely for other fandoms too so, keep a look out if you're keen!</p>
            </blockquote>





	MDMC - Criminal Minds Collection 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Pick a character, fandom, pairing, friendship, theme, etc.  
> 2\. Put on your music program on shuffle/random and start playing songs.  
> 3\. For each song, write something inspired by the song related to the theme you chose earlier. You only have the song length. No pre-planning and no writing after the song is over. No skipping songs unless you’re completely stuck – this is meant to be a challenge.  
> 4\. Do 10 songs and post. Make sure to include the song name/artist.
> 
> -
> 
> I've been told I type way too quickly... because of that some of these seem overly long.

** No Light No Light - Florence and the Machine **

Spencer had never been one to sentimentally believe in 'the one'. He didn't believe it when he'd met Derek, he didn't believe it when they had gotten togther. He knew the man made him happy and... that was all that mattered wasn't it? Why fill their experiences and lives with meaningless and stupid beliefs in something that didn't exist anyway?

Derek wasn't a hopeless romantic. He enjoyed flirting, he enjoyed watching someone blush and give him bedroom eyes when he grinned at them, showing all his beautiful teeth in a smile that was for everyone. Spencer was another such person. He'd just managed to get further by having his bedroom eyes lead them to the bedroom. Multiple times.

They're not sure which of them figures out that they had been together for over two years, but when one of them does, the other seems to as well. Unspoken, like a lot between them. Just knowledge, a revelation that neither needed, wanted or believed in. But it's undeniable that for the last two years, they had been in each other's arms, through crimes of passion and murder, obsession and families torn apart.

Both held firm to 'seeing is believing', and two years was long enough for anyone to open their eyes.

-

** Cells - The Servant **

Spencer flexed his fingers. It was cold and well past 3am, and the rain was sheeting down over the streets, washing all the color away. He'd been here for hours, just waiting, watching, counting his breaths against his heartbeat against the second tick-tick-ticking on his watch. Not long now. But then, it had been 'not long now' an hour ago, and before then an hour previous, and so it had gone.

And then he saw her. Small, almost washed out by the rain as she ran across the street with no umbrella and a very thin rain coat that most likely did nothing at all. Well, it did something for Spencer. He pushed off from the wall and followed, taking long strides - one to every three of hers - until he caught up with her and pulled her into a tight, warm embrace, one hand covering her mouth to muffle any attempt at a scream.

They stood together, the white noise almost soothing around them as Spencer pulled her closer, as she thrashed harder under him, as he brought his hand high enough to cover her nose too and held on as her body spasmed in its need for air. The rain fell, and Spencer held on.

"It's not worth it, Reid," 

Derek's voice was calm, and closer than Spencer had expected it to be. He didn't let go.

"Spencer let her go."

"Sixteen children, Derek," he said quietly.

"And she will get life for it, Spencer, don't let the bitch take you with her."

And still he held, and held, and held, until the struggling eased, and her body weighed heavier in Spencer's arms. And then he let go, watching her fall to the wet pavement and cough violently. He felt more than saw Derek next to him.

"She deserved to know what it felt like."

Derek made a non-committal sound and Spencer swallowed, feeling the waves of pain and anger and hatred bleed off him with the sheets of rain.

-

** Nothing Left To Say - Imagine Dragons **

He was getting better. Derek knew he was getting better. He could see that he held regular sleeping patterns again, that he ate breakfast with him, lunch if they could both catch it at the same time... but something was still off. Something wasn't quite right with Spencer. He'd zone out and stare into space for long periods at a time, without blinking, without moving, barely breathing... jolting out of it when Derek so much as breathed a little louder than normal. And of course, when he spoke to Spencer about it, the man just shrugged it away.

Work stress.

It was always work stress.

After a few weeks, work stress became Derek's most hated words. And after a few weeks, the warning signs were back.

The bags under the eyes, the jerky movements, the irritability. Spencer had worn long sleeves since Henkel, and he never rolled up his sleeves. He held them with white knuckled fingers when they so much as slipped up his wrist. work stress became the norm. Work stress became accurate.

He'd spent ten minutes knocking in Spencer's door before the other opened it a crack, eyes red-rimmed but dry under that mop of hair. Without a word he let him inside.

Derek's first stop was the bathroom, checking it in silence for a stash, for needles, for blood, for something, anything, that could explain Spencer's behavior recently. Nothing. He checked the kitchen, checked the rest of the apartment as Spencer just stood by, arms folded tightly over his chest and lips pressed together in a firm, crooked line.

"Where?" he asked finally, giving Spencer a desperate look, "Spence where are they?"

He shook his head, eyes closed as his shoulders lifted with a deep sigh and relaxed again. Derek's jaw worked. They were silent for a long, long time before Spencer blinked his eyes open again.

"Flushed them last Thursday." his voice croaked as though he hadn't used it for a long, long time. Derek just blinked at him. But... the signs, the trembling and nerves and anger and...

"Then why?"

Again he shook his head, standing still in the middle of his messy and dark living room. And neither moved, not for a long time, until Derek stepped closer and Spencer rested against his chest.

-

** Till I Collapse – Eminem **

The gun clicked empty and the breath that left Spencer's throat was ragged, a dying thing. He swallowed.

"Well, you hit the target at least." Derek's voice teased by his side. Spencer pursed his lips, lowering the gun. How was it that he could hear him through the damned ear protectors but the shots didn't deafen him? There was some injustice in this world, to be sure.

"Derek, I don't even need this. Why would I need a gun? Profiler's aren't required to carry a gun. Hotch can carry my gun, he already carries two."

"I didn't hear that and you don't know it." Derek replied, pretending to press his hands against his ears, feigning shock. The entire team knew that Hotch carried weapons he wasn't meant to. He had his reasons, and he had never let the team down with a hot head to use them inappropriately. Hotch was Hotch, if he needed two guns then he needed two damn guns.

"I don't need one." Spencer said again, looking at the gun with annoyance, holding it between two fingers like it was dirty. Derek laughed.

"Pretty boy, load the damned clip."

Spencer groaned and did so.

"You know, statistically, Americans are the most irresponsible with gun use simply because it's not policed properly."

"Blah blah blah," came Derek's sing-song reply, "Aim."

"That's because we have been exposed to guns and gun use from a young age and -"

"Spencer."

Spencer stopped, lifting one side of the ear protectors to hear properly.

"If you hit that target by the end of the session..." and there was the tone. That tone that made Spencer go weak at the knees, made him swallow down quiet whines of want. That damned tone and the promise it held.

Without another word, Spencer lifted the gun and fired.

-

** SuperPsychoLove - Simon Curtis **

How many bloody sugars did that man take in his coffee? Derek had counted six before someone had called his name and distracted him. When he turned back, Spencer was already sipping his caffeinated syrup and giving him a confused look.

"You're not getting coffee?"

"Yea I... No, later maybe... Spence..."

"Boardroom in five." Hotch wasn't smiling. Not really an indicator but it did kill the buzz for a moment. Spencer gave a small nod, that ridiculously adorable smile to Derek and obediently went to collect his bag. Derek fumed quietly in the kitchen before following.

The next morning wasn't much better, though he did count eight this time.

"You know you can't absorb coffee by osmosis," Spencer told him, stirring when Derek turned back after yet another distraction. "Or by sensory concentration." Derek blinked. "Staring at it won't make you ingest it." Spencer clarified.

"Right."

Another dorky smile, a sip of his not-quite-coffee, and out the door.

This time when Derek threw a silent tantrum, Spencer saw him.

-

** Little Talks - Of Monsters And Men **

Spencer sucked his stomach in, away from Derek's fingers, and his brows furrowed a little. He hummed.

"London Underground?"

Above him Derek laughed. "Damn, pretty boy, now you're starting to scare me. How the heck do you remember all this?"

"Eidetic memory."

"These are maps of a metro you've never been to!"

Spencer smiled, eyes still closed. "I read."

"Yea you rarely do anything but." Derek muttered, and Spencer grinned, holding out a hand blindly to try and find his lover. When he did, he pulled him down to kiss him. It was Saturday, some godforsaken hour of the morning, and it was cold outside. Raining. The windows had steamed up.

"Try another?"

Derek rubbed his nose against Spencer's and sighed, feigning annoyance. He sat back, regarding Spencer on the bed. His sleep pants had ridden up higher on one leg than the other and it was probably the most adorable thing Derek had ever seen. He chewed his lip, glancing at his phone that still held the screencap of the London Underground that he'd been tracing on Spencer's skin. He locked it and set it aside, fingers returning to his skin and tracing a new pattern, taking his time, not pressing too hard, just letting Spencer sense it there before moving to the next configuration.

Spencer frowned, brows drawn and lips pursed. After five minutes of absolutely nothing he opened his eyes, petulant.

"I have no idea."

Derek just grinned, one hand lightly running a palm over his eyes so he closed them again.

"You'll learn," he said, tracing 'I love you' over the fading ghost of where he'd traced it before.

-

** Turbine Womb - Soap&Skin **

He couldn't remember.

Spencer dragged his hands through his hair as he sat up in the hospital bed and drew in air like he'd drown without it. He couldn't remember. Someone had come in, not a doctor, not a nurse, but someone who had smiled at him, had told him that she loved him and was glad he was ok. That someone else would be by later, that the 'team' missed him and had been taking shifts by his bedside for the week he'd been out.

Out where? What team?

Spencer whined and closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against them until he saw stars. Countless stars... and constellations. He remembered constellations! He choked on a laugh and blinked his eyes open, blurry colors dancing in his vision before they disappeared. There was someone else in the room now, two women, one with crazy glasses and unbelievably frizzy hair, the other more toned down, dark hair, straight. Both were offering him smiles and touching his arm, telling him he was ok.

And then they left, and Spencer's memory of them followed. He had no idea who they were. He probably wouldn't recognize them if he saw them again.

He pressed his hands into his eyes again, going back to something familiar, returning to the stars he knew, the stars he could name and describe and cling to with all his might.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a man. Dark-skinned and tall, well-built and shaved. And he wasn't smiling. But his eyes were filled with the most unbelievable hope, almost childish in its simplicity and it's need. Please. Please.

Spencer made a quiet sound in his throat and wished he could share the stars with him. Perhaps ask him his name.

-

** Sail – Awolnation **

Derek rolled his neck and raised his eyebrows at the young man in front of him.

"Really?" he asked, "Doctor? Really?"

The kid looked like he was just barely legal enough to drink, and he introduced himself as 'Dr. Spencer Reid'. And now he was giving him the best pursed-lip-hurt-puppy look and Derek had to grin.

He still had no idea why he was interviewing the kid when Hotch should be doing it. When Erin should be doing it. Gideon. Heck, anyone that wasn't him. He didn't interview people, he couldn't stop profiling them. And this kid was... unreadable. He had these huge hazel puppy-dog eyes and hair to match, looked like he'd be blown over by a gentle breeze and was in here interviewing for a position in the BAU.

He couldn't imagine this kid handling anything beyond the cup of coffee his long, spidery fingers were caressing. He wasn't cut out for this. He'd throw up at the first crime scene, whimper and wail and ask for his mommy. Derek checked the file, eyebrows rising a little higher. Huh.

He looked up again, meeting the eyes of Spencer Reid, seeing the calm determination there, not a will to prove so much as a will to do, and huffed a quiet laugh.

"Alright, pretty boy, alright, Doctor it is."

-

** God's Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash **

He was on the floor again, nose bleeding and quiet whines of pain escaping him as he panted, teeth grit and eyes narrow. He'd be used to this, you'd think, having been the youngest and smartest at any school he'd attended, at the college he attended, and yet it still hurt him so damn much more than the physical to end up ass-first on the floor looking up at his attacker.

Spencer brought his lips together in a scowl, eyes narrowing more, hands curling against the tile under his palms, adrenaline cold in his veins as it slid under his skin and to the parts where it mattered. He swallowed, the corner of his lips quirking just a little before he stood slowly, one hand out as though for balance, as though to keep the other at bay, as though he wanted mercy, peace, calm... he was surrendering, that's all it was. He just didn't want to be sitting when he did it.

Of course... looking down at the unsub as Spencer stood over him a moment later, knuckles bloody and sore, was a much more satisfying way to have the man remember him.

-

** Angel - Massive Attack **

It built up. A slow, throbbing thing, from the base of Derek's spine and up and up, slowly, carefully, like hands caressing skin, it made its way up his back and to the base of his skull. And there it sat, vibrating with anticipation and want and need... he smiled, breathing in slowly to feel his lungs fill to capacity, to feel the way his ribs accommodated, and opened his eyes.

He hadn't bothered to clean up, and the room was a mess. Three bodies and the blood enough to match. On the floor, on the walls, soaked into the carpet and sliding down the windows to pool on the window sills. Derek narrowed his eyes and turned his head just a little, watching the play of light bring out the brown in the liquid. It was like some sick stained glass window, a design only he understood and would appreciate.

He stepped further into the room, only barely glancing down as his feet brought blood seeping up out of the carpet. They wouldn't leak. He barely noticed the smell, too, the smell of ozone and iron, the lingering odor of unbrushed teeth and healthy, human sweat, but it was there. It hung in the air like a veil and Derek waved it aside as he turned on the spot, eyes taking in every detail, every last little thing.

It was beautiful. He doubted he could've done it better.

"There were three unsubs," he explained, pointing to the front door, the closet and the half open window, "We're looking at a pack."

He lowered his hand as Hotch started speaking, calling up the appropriate authorities for rights and jurisdiction requirements. He let him speak as he regarded the room more, let his mind absorb it, let his body relax into it. And then he closed his eyes and willed the throbbing thing away, sent it back to the dark recesses of his mind where it belonged, where it only came out to play with the psychopaths he put away. 

For the moment safe and sound behind an iron will and titanic self-control.


End file.
